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hymn to god - my god in my sickness - anthony quayle lyrics

since i am coming to that holy room
where, with thy choir of saints for evermore
i shall be made thy music; as i come
i tune the instrument here at the door
and what i must do then, think here before

whilst my physicians by their love are grown
cosmographers, and i their map, who lie
flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
that this is my south*west discovery
per fretum febris, by these straits to die

i joy, that in these straits i see my west;
for, though their currents yield return to none
what shall my west hurt me? as west and east
in all flat maps (and i am one) are one
so death doth touch the resurrection

is the pacific sea my home? or are
the eastern riches? is jerusalem?
anyan, and magellan, and gibraltar
all straits, and none but straits, are ways to them
whether where j*phet dwelt, or cham, or shem

we think that paradise and calvary
christ’s cross, and adam’s tree, stood in one place;
look, lord, and find both adams met in me;
as the first adam’s sweat surrounds my face
may the last adam’s blood my soul embrace
so, in his purple wrapp’d, receive me, lord;
by these his th*rns, give me his other crown;
and as to others’ souls i preach’d thy word
be this my text, my sermon to mine own:
“therefore that he may raise, the lord throws down.”

- anthony quayle lyrics

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